


A little birdy

by SansyFresh



Series: Nontypical [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Atypical Spin off, Eating Disorder, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Referenced Blindness, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Being a dragon has its perks. Having an unwanted hoard is not one of them, but Braise does his best.





	A little birdy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who reads this ^^ This is pretty much a just for fun thing, so enjoy :D

It’d been a long day, by that point. Braise was used to potential investors backing out, especially when a particular gadget didn’t work out the way it was supposed to right away, but very rarely did it ever go this spectacularly terrible. The machine he’d made had been sabotaged by rivals on route to the company that was to test it, so when it arrived, it didn’t work. Because there was no proof of anyone tampering with the device (that part of the message nearly had him incinerating a wall), it was deemed a failure and returned in pieces, along with a sheaf of papers that all essentially stated he was losing his business dealings with that particular company, and likely with many of their sister companies. 

 

All in all, it wasn’t that devastating of a blow to his business. He’d made enough money in business dealings over the years that losing this one didn’t mean much. Still, the thought of the reason that he lost it in the first place made his marrow bubble and burn in his bones. 

 

Tossing the papers onto his desk, he sat back, rubbing his face with both hands. He’d have to draw up the necessary paperwork stating his breaking off dealings with that particular company, and have copies ready for if the others decided to follow suit. Dealing with these ninnies and their strange ways of running the business world was a burden in and of itself. In every honesty he wanted nothing to do with it, but he was a dragon, and all dragons craved one thing.

 

Snorting, Braise stood, stretching out his spine and deciding that, if he was to sit there another several hours filling out meaningless paperwork, he was damn well going to have some coffee and a snack to make it less menial. Shifting on his feet, he slipped off his coat jacket, laying it on the back of his chair before heading for the door.

 

The wooden halls creaked as he walked past, the air chill enough that his over heated breath came out as small puffs of clouds. The walls were barren, the wood old and windows dusty, though he could see the last dregs of sunlight that poured through them. He really needed to hire someone to come up and clean again, though last time hadn’t gone so well…

 

Sighing as he wiped a bit of dust from a window as he passed, he resolved in his mind to at least look into it. 

 

Just as he passed into the hall that lead to the kitchen, there was a crash, and the sound of loud swearing. Huffing under his breath, Braise rushed forward and pushed his way through the door, bright red eyelights glancing around before settling on the low glow of a mass of bright green feathers, huddled under a large mixing bowl. Flour and crackers were scattered around him, dotting the floor in a carpet of white. 

 

“Portugal? What are you doing?”

 

There was a flurry of movement, the bowl flying up and over to the corner as the ruffled skeleton righted himself, visibly swallowing a mouthful of food before glaring at Braise. “Rain was hungry.”

 

Braise didn’t bother making the observation that Portugal had been the one eating. It never did anything but start a fight, and starting a fight after the day he’d had was not something he wanted to accomplish. “He’s welcome to the kitchen. You both are.” Although Rain often did come and get his own food when he was hungry, sometimes Portugal had the need to do it. It was a tick they were no closer to understanding, and mentioning it made the harpy angry.

 

It was just as often Portugal would feel the overbearing desire to eat until his stomach hurt. Knowing which situation was the current one was a constant toss up.

 

Portugal glared harder, if it was possible. “He knows that.” Then, without another word, he gathered up a box of crackers that had been hidden and darted through the side door, leaving a trail of flour in his wake. Rolling his eyes, Braise walked forward and over the mess, grabbing the still steaming pot of coffee and pouring himself a mug.


End file.
